


if it makes you less sad, i will die by your hand

by Ciasquare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Hallucinations, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Past Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciasquare/pseuds/Ciasquare
Summary: Tsukishima has a secret that he is keeping from Akaashi and Bokuto.





	if it makes you less sad, i will die by your hand

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a song called "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" by Brand New.

When Tsukishima woke up that morning, he could feel it, a low-key buzz under his skin. He felt like digging his nails into his flesh and ripping it off his bones. His body felt a size too small. He sat up instantly, rubbing his arms with his palms to try and dispel the disgusting feeling. The blanket was scratchy and uncomfortable so he drew his legs out of it and hastily scrambled across the bed, wanting nothing more than to run from the room.

Next to him, Akaashi frowned and shifted in his sleep, causing Tsukishima to still abruptly, jaw tight and hands clenched into fists. He sat awkwardly, long legs already flung over the edge of the bed, so tense that he was practically vibrating. Bokuto whined as the heat dissipated and huffed in irritation, turning over with a pout on his face. Tsukishima stared at them for a long moment, his heavy breaths loud in the quiet room.

“ _All you can do is try._ ” Kuroo’s words rang in his head. The demon in his brain pulled at the words, repeated the sentence in a mockery of Kuroo’s voice. “ _All you can do is try,_ ” it singsonged, “ _try, all you can do is, all you can, try is do, you can, alllll-_ ” Tuskishima shook his head violently as the voice began to shriek. This couldn’t be happening again, he thought as he clutched his head between his hands, it couldn’t, it wasn’t fucking fair.

From the far side of the bed, Kuroo’s head made an appearance from a pile of pillows. He blinked sleepily in Tsukishima’s direction and yawned widely, probably awoken by the Tsukishima jostling the bed. His hair stuck up obnoxiously in all directions. “Tsukki?” Kuroo’s sleepy whisper carried in the night like the whizzing of throwing knives, headed straight for Tsukishima’s ears. Tsukishima restrained the urge to hiss in displeasure.

“It’s nothing,” he replied softly and gingerly crawling back between Akaashi and Bokuto, slowly laying himself back onto the bed. Kuroo blinked a couple more times before muttering a quiet “Okay,” and burying his head back into the pillows he had stolen for himself.

Tsukishima laid unmoving on his back, gazing at the ceiling. Bokuto’s breath puffed softly on the back of his neck, warmer than any blanket, Akaashi was curled close, and even though Tsukishima still felt like his skin was crawling, he felt himself relaxing just a little. He had to try for them.

Maybe this time it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought as he drifted off to sleep with the voice in the back of his head chanting, “ _Maybe, maybe, maybemaybemaybe_.”

* * *

 

Kuroo wondered how he didn’t see it earlier in the night when he woke up to Tsukishima on the way to the door. Tsukishima was having another one of those days. He could see it in the hard lines in his neck, the tense way he held his shoulders.

He snuck into the bathroom before Tsukishima could shut the door completely, Bokuto still snoring softly on the bed and Akaashi closing the front gate with a small shout of, “I’m leaving!”

“Hey,”he said as softly as he could manage, holding his hands up like a question.

Tsukishima looked at him with gratitude and made a short, terse nod.

Kuroo slowly enveloped him in a hug, running his hands up and down Tsukishima’s arms in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Tsukishima exhaled heavily through his nose as Kuroo nuzzled into his neck.

“Will you be okay today?” Kuroo mumbled into his skin.

“I’ll be alright,” Tsukishima said, but his teeth were clenched. Was it that bad already?

“You sure? I’m just worried. I’m sure you can call in sick for a day.” Kuroo ran fingers through his hair, massaging lightly at his scalp.

Tsukishima closed his eyes and almost relaxed for a couple of seconds, but then he opened them again, looking determined. “I’ll be fine. Nobody bothers me at work. Yamaguchi can run interference.”

“Promise me if it gets really bad, you’ll take the day off.”

Tsukishima’s fingers tightened bone white on their sink. “Okay.” Kuroo backed off just as gently as he had hugged him before. He pressed a chaste kiss into Tsukishima’s bitten lips. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Don’t tell them,” Tsukishima answered after a beat.

Kuroo frowned, “You have to tell them eventually.”

“Please,” Tsukishima said tightly.

Kuroo tried to look disapprovingly at Tsukishima through their bathroom mirror, but his reflection only showed concern and worry. Thankfully, Tsukishima was avoiding his eyes, staring intently at the faucet. “Just not now,” he said, still stubbornly looking away.

Kuroo didn’t respond, but continued to lightly rub his shoulders.

“Tonight. I’ll tell them tonight,” Tsukishima reluctantly conceded, like pulling teeth.

Kuroo made an affirmative noise, “Right then, I’m going. Get out before Bokuto gets up.”

Tsukishima nodded with a grimace then looked vaguely guilty, “I’ll kiss him before leaving at least.”

Kuroo smirked, “Softie.”

Tsukishima made a face at him that looked like a cross between pain, frustration and adoration. Kuroo couldn’t help it, he could feel his smirk stretch into a real smile, fond and sappy. “Mhmm,” he hummed tonelessly, “Alright I really have to go. Try to have a good day, Tsukki.” He turned and opened the bathroom door, going to get ready, but Tsukishima very lightly pulled on his shirtsleeve.

“Yes?” Kuroo turned, an eyebrow raised.

“I love you too,”Tsukishima said, blushing.

Kuroo smiled, “All my boyfriends are saps.” Tsukishima pretended to look offended, but all he managed was exasperatedly fond.

“Go on, get out of here,” Tsukishima snapped, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Kuroo waved back and left, grinning.

* * *

 

Bokuto was feeling a little neglected by Tsukishima today. Tsukishima usually ate breakfast with him, but today he left early without even leaving a note. When Tsukishima came home an hour ago, Bokuto had bounced over to the door, arms spread wide for a hug and Tsukishima had actually ducked under him. At least he had looked apologetic.

“Not today, Bokuto,” He had said, voice strained. Ever since then, Tsukishima had worn this tight, pinched look on his face.

Bokuto thought it was a rough day at work, but even after a bath – which Tsukishima took cold in the middle of winter – he still persistently dodged Bokuto’s attempts to cuddle and instead wedged himself in a corner of the couch with his headphones, laptop open to feign business, but his eyes were shut tight. Akaashi tried to talk to him too, but Tsukishima had given one word answers, clearly not in the mood to talk. In the end, Akaashi had given up, tugging Bokuto to the kitchen by the elbow of his shirtsleeve.

“Maybe he’ll cheer up after dinner!” Bokuto exclaimed, trying to keep his spirits up and cheer Akaashi too, “I’m always grumpy if I’m not full.”

“Maybe,” Akaashi said as he pulled ingredients out of their fridge, not looking very convinced.

“What do you think happened at work for him to be like that?” Bokuto wondered aloud, starting to chop up the carrots that Akaashi tossed at him.

“No clue. He isn’t fazed by much though?”

“Must have been something really bad, then,” Bokuto said, leaning back a little so he could peek at Tsukishima through the sliding doors.

He was still huddled on the couch in summer shorts and a V-necked tee and Bokuto fleetingly wondered at how he didn’t feel cold. For somebody so tall, he looked ridiculously small curled up like that. The headphones were still firmly over his ears and Bokuto could make out his glasses on the coffee table. So much for pretending to work.

“Bokuto… Do you think he’s mad at us?” Akaashi said, sounding small.

Bokuto immediately turned to face Akaashi, eyes wide. “No way, why would he be mad? We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Akaashi looked pained, “I don’t know. What if we did?”

Bokuto glanced at Tsukishima’s tucked away form and thought that if this was how Tsukishima was like when he was angry, it was a lot less angry than Tsukishima seemed usually. He wasn’t caustic, insulting or out for blood, he just didn’t seem… wholly present.

“I don’t think so, Akaashi. I think he’s just sad today.” Bokuto pulled him close and pointed out Tsukishima to him, “Plus he looks kinda cute like this. Let’s just leave it till after dinner and we can talk then huh?”

Akaashi pressed his face into Bokuto’s shirt and Bokuto could feel him smile. Akaashi mumbled something into Bokuto’s stomach and Bokuto gently tilted his face up. “What was that?”

“We could call Kuroo and ask him to get strawberry shortcake on the way home.” Akaashi repeated shyly and Bokuto grinned.

“That’s an amazing idea, Akaashi!” Bokuto nearly shouted, “I’ll go call him now.”

“Alright, you do that,” Akaashi repeated, “I’ll defrost the beef.”

“Beef?! This is the best day!”

Akaashi smiled sweetly at him and really, Bokuto had no choice but to kiss him.

* * *

 

Tsukishima came to the table with headphones on and Akaashi gave him a pointed look. Tsukishima wordlessly removed his headphones and hung them around his neck without a remark or look, or even a sigh. He seemed… Afraid? Wary? Akaashi couldn’t put his thumb on it. He sighed. Why were all his boyfriends so dramatic? “It’s dinner time.” He explained. Tsukishima nodded sharply. He took a seat next to Kuroo.

Kuroo had also been acting strangely ever since he came home. He had mostly left Tsukshima alone, but Akaashi had not missed the hushed talk they had in the living room before they came to the table. Right now, Kuroo had that disapproving twitch in his eyebrows whenever he glanced at Tsukishima, but the wrinkles by his eyes were nothing but worry.

Bokuto came out proudly bearing the dishes they cooked today, smile wide across his face. “We made beef because Tsukishima had a rough day!” He announced loudly and Tsukishima winced. It was fast and the expression was quickly put away, but Akaashi didn’t miss it. It seemed that Bokuto didn’t either, from the way that his smile dimmed. Bokuto set the dishes down with much less vigor and took his seat quietly. Akaashi’s concern began to morph into irritation.

“Itadakimasu.” Everyone chanted. Tsukishima made an odd face, like he was trying to abort an expression.

They ate in silence, no one trying to make conversation. Akaashi knew he was glaring murderously from the way Kuroo and Bokuto both sported wide eyed looks of fear like small children in trouble, glancing at each other and avoiding meeting Akaashi’s eyes. Tsukishima however was shuffling around in his seat. He wasn’t eating either, just moving food around on his plate and nibbling a couple of rice grains when he thought Akaashi was looking.

Akaashi felt his annoyance grow exponentially. He was done with this nonsensical behavior. He decided to address the elephant in the room. “Tsukishima,” he started, a little more sternly than he meant to and the blonde flinched like he had been hit. Akaashi felt his heart sink a little. “Hey,” he tried, softer, “what’s wrong?”

Bokuto’s eyes snapped to Akaashi’s, expression sulky, “You promised after dinner!”

“I didn’t promise anything.” Akaashi returned defensively, aware that he was pulling technicalities.

“Still!” Bokuto insisted, “No need to be so scary! Tsukishima just needs a hug, right?” Bokuto stood up and reached for Tsukishima, arms outstretched. At the exact same moment, Kuroo jumped up, “No, Bokuto!”

There was no mistaking the look in Tsukishima’s eyes. It was fear.

He was tense in Bokuto’s grip, fist clenched, shoulders hunched. His eyes were wide and fearful and he was shuddering violently. “Geez you’re cold,” Bokuto said with his face buried into Tsukishima’s shoulder, “You should wear warmer clothes in winter.”

Akaashi turned to Kuroo, eyes narrowed. They were hiding something. “Tsukishima? Kuroo? Someone better explain themselves, right now.” Akaashi’s tone had returned to the steely cold one he was using to scold Tsukishima earlier. Kuroo wasn’t looking at him though. He was still staring at Tsukishima and Bokuto as he sat back down looking meek and awed.

Bokuto, who hadn’t yet seen Tsukishima or Kuroo’s expressions, turned to Akaashi, looking confused. “What?” He asked, right next to Tsukishima’s ear.

It was like a trigger was pulled. Tsukishima leapt like he was on the court, only away from Bokuto, placing both hands on Bokuto’s shoulders in a desperate effort to be free of him. Bokuto let go, stunned, as Tsukishima landed on his butt. He scrambled backwards, his chest heaving, eyes wild and glassy. He brought both arms to his chest, holding his upper arms tightly and he shook his head a couple of times. His glasses had fallen next to him, bent strangely from the impact of the fall, and Tsukishima shakily put them on his face, lopsided. He looked terrified and his eyes kept flicking between Bokuto and Akaashi.

“Tsukishima?” Akaashi ventured carefully and at that Tsukishima burst up and bolted, shirt and shorts and all into the winter cold.

It was silent for a minute, everybody’s faces contorted into twin expressions of shock.

Kuroo broke it, “Whoa, Tsukki must really love you guys. He punched me the last time I hugged him without warning when he was like this.”He sounded breathless with admiration.

Immediately, Akaashi rounded on Kuroo. “What the fuck was that?”

Kuroo’s face blanched, “Oh shit.”

Bokuto frowned and his expression turned menacing, “What,” he growled, not really making it into a question.

“Uh, it’s Tsukki’s story, really.” Kuroo tried to evade.

Akaashi glowered at him. “He’s not here now, in case it missed your attention!”

Kuroo rubbed his neck and his expression became more solemn. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright. But it really isn’t my story so, you’ll have to get his version when he comes back.” 

Akaashi and Bokuto just glared. Kuroo sighed. “It goes like this.”

* * *

 

Tsukishima Kei knew that he was not a good person or a nice person. He had given up on ever trying to be a good person or a nice person. People were annoying, loud, rude, mean, including himself and they always wanted so much. He kept everyone at a distance because people kept expecting more than he could deliver. They expected him to be a good person or a nice person, and any number of other things that he simply couldn’t be. In the end, they left because they were disappointed and it always, always hurt.

Nobody ever believed it, but when Tsukishima was a kid, he was a cheerful and friendly child. He had a family that loved him, a brother that adored him, and many friends.

One day, when Tsukishima’s age was still in the single digits, he no longer had a father that loved him. Tsukishima cannot tell how old he was exactly, or the day when his father walked out of the house and never came back. All he remembers is one year, he is in his father’s lap and they blow out the candles together and the next year, he wakes up to two wrapped presents on the table from his brother and his mother and an empty house.

Just because someone said they loved you didn’t mean they couldn’t leave like you meant nothing. Just because you loved someone didn’t mean they loved you back. Just because you loved someone didn’t mean that they wouldn’t hurt you.

He tried after that to make sure that people didn’t leave. He tried his hardest with everything. He worked hard because if he was the best, rationally speaking, there was no way that people would leave him – not if they couldn’t find a replacement somewhere else.

He was proven wrong. Even if you tried your hardest, people still found you lacking somewhere, somehow. Through a crack in the door, he watched his brother sob in his room, clutching the Karasuno Volleyball Club jacket to his face and wondered how people could be so unbelievably cruel.

He stopped trying.

He started to protect himself instead. He didn’t push himself in anything; trying your best was futile. He didn’t have friends anymore, except for Yamaguchi who stubbornly insisted on sticking by him no matter how often he pushed him away. He tried his best not to talk to people. He took his headphones everywhere, they made an easy wall between him and the rest of the world.

Then he met Hinata Shouyou.

Hinata could only really be described as an event in a person, like Guy Fawkes Day or a hurricane. He didn’t meet you so much as he happened to you. He was a living, moving ball of constant energy. Everything he did was an exaggeration. He was exaggeratedly happy, exaggeratedly sad, and he made Tsukishima exaggeratedly annoyed just by existing, but Tsukishima found that he didn’t want to exist in a world without Hinata in it.

He tried his hardest to push the feeling away, but it grew and grew, and one day, while they were sitting on a bench and Hinata was prattling on about the most ridiculous things, Tsukishima leaned down and gave away his first kiss. Hinata had pushed him away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, face screwed up weirdly, not entirely able to keep the disgusted shock off his face. Tsukishima had gotten up, bowed, stuttered out an apology and ran home.

His mother found him crying uncontrollably in his room. When she pushed, he quietly confessed that he had a crush on a guy and had been rejected. His mother had started crying too, because he liked guys. She didn’t stop for a week.

Who knew that you didn’t have to _do_ anything to disappoint people?

That was the day. The same day he threw up his dinner in the bathroom, tossed and turned in his bed, and sobbed till he couldn’t go to school the next morning, that was the day that the disgust at himself became fully-fledged hatred. There must be something so wrong with him that his father would leave him, that his mother would cry because of him, that Hinata – beautiful, perfect, good Hinata – would be disgusted by him.

His mind screamed, “ _PUNISH!_ ” and he did. He scratched his wrists raw and when that wasn’t enough to erase the image of Hinata wiping his mouth, he went to the bathroom, snuck out his brother’s razor blade and drew one short red line right above where his shirtsleeve ended.

Instantly there was peace. His mind shut up, all the guilt fell away. He had atoned. It was enough.

It was an addiction, Tsukishima discovered the day he made one line and it wasn’t enough. He made another and deepened that till it was a scar that would never fade and started a new one.

It was an addiction, Tsukishima realized the day he decided he was going to quit and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with the guilt normally anymore.

It was an addiction, Tsukishima found out when his blood boiled inside of him, demanding that he let it out and he itched terribly where he usually made his cuts, where he made his first cuts. He would toss and turn in bed unable to sleep, uncomfortable in his own body.

This wasn’t Tsukishima’s only demon. It never had been. The other demon had been with him for far longer and reared its ugly head after nights of little or no sleep. If someone was listening in on his brain, they would say that he heard voices, but there was only ever one. One voice doing poor imitations of other people. The voice didn’t listen to reason; it wasn’t a rational thing. It yelled and shrieked for minutes on end, just for fun. It would mumble and sing and pull words into different meanings. The voice became devilishly excited when Tsukishima reached for razors, when he saw knives, would chant and would be gleeful and when there was enough blood the voice would giggle itself to a stop. Tsukishima hated dealing with that voice, he hated it so much.

He failed over and over, until he met Kuroo.

No. Until Kuroo caught him in the act. They cried for so long in Tsukishima’s apartment bathroom, curled up together on the tiles. Kuroo hugged him so tight, Tsukishima thought he was going to bruise. He promised to stop. It wasn’t easy. He would be clean for a year and then he wouldn’t be and then he would be clean for seven months and then he wouldn’t be. But eventually the gap got longer and longer until Tsukishima didn’t need it anymore.

Still, some days his blood would itch. When his sleep began to suffer, the voice would come. It was a deadly combo that made Tsukishima overloaded with sensation. It was so noisy in his head, his body hurt everywhere and his blood burned. He couldn’t take silence, because that meant he was alone with the voice, but sound was annoying, touch was unbearable, and he was uncomfortable everywhere. It hadn’t happened in a long time.

Why did it need to start now?

What if Akaashi and Bokuto left?

What if Kuroo chose them when they left instead of him?

“ _choosechoosechooseyou_. _CHOOSE_! _Didn’t choose_. _Choose Kuroo_.” The voice chanted without any real rhythm and then began to repeat the first line of a pop song over and over and over.

Tsukishima covered his face with his hands and began to sob.

* * *

 

They had moved to the couch to wait for Tsukishima to return. Kuroo couldn’t quite cease fidgeting out of worry, but he tried to look calm, not wanting to freak his two boyfriends out. Not that they were paying much attention to him. Bokuto was sniffling softly on his left and on his right Akaashi was staring blankly at the portion of the couch that Tsukishima usually hogged, long legs draping over the armrest.

“Will he come back?” Bokuto’s voice was congested and strange. Kuroo passed him a tissue from the box on their coffee table. Bokuto blew his nose noisily.

“He’ll be back,” Kuroo answered with more confidence than he felt.

“But it’s so cold out…” Bokuto worried.

“He just went out to calm down. He’ll be back soon.” Kuroo tried for a comforting tone as he drew Bokuto into a hug. Bokuto clung to him like a limpet and pushed his face into Kuroo’s shoulder, letting out a fresh round of sobs. Akaashi leaned into his back as well, arms circling his waist.

“He hears a voice?” Akaashi whispered, still sounding a little shell-shocked. Kuroo nodded as best he could with Bokuto around him.

“Yeah. It’s not a thinking kind of voice though? It’s more like a really irritating parrot.”

Akaashi shifted to press his face into Kuroo’s back. “You said this hasn’t happened for a while,” he said, the words muffled, “what triggered it this time?”

Kuroo shrugged minutely, trying not to jostle the two of them. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Akaashi turned his head, so that it was his ear that was pressed against Kuroo’s back. “I’m sure you have a better idea of what’s going on. You’ve been with him longer than we have.” Now that his words were clear, the bitterness wasn’t missed, hanging acrid in the cold air. On his shoulder, Bokuto’s sobs abruptly calmed into soft whimpers, as he conspicuously tried to pay more attention to their conversation.

“That’s not true,” Kuroo disagreed, thinking of one rainy day in October.

He had just come back from work, feeling very much like he had taken a shower in his clothes when he found Akaashi and Tsukishima lying on opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled under a blanket. He was cold and felt gross, but seeing the two of them lounging like that was a gulp of hot tea, a wonderful warmth spreading through his body.

“Hey,” he had called as he toed his shoes off.

“Hey.” Tsukishima threw his head back to look at him, the dim yellow of their hall light catching on the curve of his throat. He had been frowning with enough intensity to give Kuroo a headache just looking at him, but when Kuroo grinned, the frown faded a little to give way to a more affectionate light in his amber eyes and the tightness around his mouth softened.

The light of a laptop gleamed brightly from Tsukishima’s lap, betraying the cause of his grumpy mood. Kuroo made a mental note to coax Tsukishima into a cuddle and massage after his bath.

“Hey,” Akaashi joined in from father away, shuffling upright in order to peek over the back of the couch. He met Kuroo’s eyes with a gentle smile that curved elegantly around his lips, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Eh, I can’t decide now. Too gross, I’m gonna shower first,” Kuroo answered dismissively, putting the shoes onto the rack.

Tsukishima let out a low groan from where his head was still hanging off the couch’s armrests. He had a childish pout on his face, the one he always used when he was practically begging for attention, but his eyes were screwed up a little with what looked like an oncoming tension headache. “I can’t work anymore,” he whined, reaching up to rub his eyes under his glasses.

Kuroo smiled affectionately at Tsukishima, about to suggest his plan for snuggles when Akaashi moved the laptop to the coffee table and deftly maneuvered Tsukishima between his legs so that the mop of blonde hair was resting comfortably on his chest. Akaashi removed the offending glasses and began to gently knead at Tsukishima’s temples, making Tsukishima moan appreciatively.

“I know it’s difficult, but you can do this.” Akaashi encouraged softly and even though Tsukishima still looked pouty, the curls of tense anxiety in his neck were gone.

Kuroo could only gaze with wonderment. It had taken him so long to understand Tsukishima’s way of vying for attention and his method of asking for physical reassurance; but without even looking at Tsukishima’s face, Akaashi could read his moods like a book.

But he was only surprised then because that was before he realized– “I might have been with him longer, but you always understood him better,” Kuroo vocalized softly, feeling a bit embarrassed of the sappy smile he knew he had on his face right now. He brought up the hand that wasn’t loosely holding Bokuto to card through Bokuto’s black-white hair, toying with the short fuzz at the nape of his neck.

“Me?” Akaashi asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Kuroo nodded, staring into the distance, still wearing a soft expression as he recalled the contented smile dancing at the corners of Tsukishima’s lips as he lay with his eyes closed on Akaashi’s chest, both of his boyfriends bathed in a warm orange-gold glow, “you.”

* * *

 

Bokuto raised his head so quickly when he heard the jangle of keys at the door that he nearly head-butted Kuroo in the jaw. Akaashi jerked upright behind Kuroo as well, and their eyes met over Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Tsukki,” Kuroo spoke and Bokuto had a moment to wonder if that was the magic word to break the too-still spell that had fallen on all of them, just as they sprang into frantic motion.

Bokuto reached the door first, throwing it open.

Tsukishima stood in the gap, practically blue with cold. He was shivering so hard that Bokuto could hear his teeth chattering. His eyes were red rimmed, frost clinging to his eyelashes, nose red, lips chapped and bitten. Bokuto desperately wanted to wraphim in a hug, but he restrained himself, vibrating with the effort.

Tsukishima didn’t want him right now.

Bokuto tried to suppress the hurt that was building in his chest, eating his heart out. He wasn’t good at words like Kuroo was, he couldn’t read Tsukishima’s silences like Akaashi could, the only thing he was good at was running his hands through soft blonde curls, leaving royal purple bruises on skinny hips, holding Tsukishima tight to tell him _I don’t want to ever let you go_.

But he could remember Tsukishima’s petrified face staring up at him from the kitchen floor. It haunted him, lingering in the corners of his mind. He felt sick to the bottom of his stomach. That face was more than enough to keep his hands away. He never wanted to make Tsukishima look like that again. Look at _him_ like that again.

“Fuck,” Kuroo cursed under his breath next to Bokuto’s ear, “we gotta get you warmed up, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima bit his lip, his eyes glinting and Bokuto recognized that expression.

It was the same as the one Tsukishima wore that time when it was just the two of them alone in the house. Bokuto had wheedled Tsukishima into joining him in baking cookies. They had gone searching for ingredients through the kitchen cabinets that Bokuto secretly believed housed a portal to another universe – because when had they ever owned a mixing bowl? – when Tsukishima had admitted in a strange tone of voice,

“I’ve never baked before.”

Bokuto glanced at Tsukishima who was nervously gripping a whisk they had discovered on an expedition through a different cupboard like it was a battle weapon. His face was turned away, words directed at the ground.

“Do I look like I have?” Bokuto responded cheerfully, standing on tip toes as he tugged a bag of flour out of the recesses of the top cabinet between the grip of his two longest fingers. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry!” He reassured with a bright smile, “Worst case scenario, we get rid of the evidence. I don’t think even Akaashi knew we had flour.” Tsukishima eyed the bag with a frown, probably also wondering how it had materialized in their kitchen. “Best case scenario, Akaashi and Kuroo come home to cookies and the best boyfriends ever!” He continued, dumping the bag on the kitchen counter and turning to face his boyfriend.

Tsukishima was still staring at the bag of flour, but this time there was a glint in his eye and a sharp quirk to his mouth. “Best boyfriends ever huh?” He had asked, before turning that smirk on Bokuto, “Yeah okay. We’re making cookies.”

And goddamn, but he almost forgot about cookies altogether in favor of pulling Tsukishima into the bedroom and kissing that mouth.

It was the same look in his eyes, except instead of that confident, sexy smirk wrapping around one side of his face, Tsukishima worried his bottom lip between his teeth and clenched his fists.

“Tsukishima? What’s wrong?” Akaashi asked cautiously, probably having caught the same signs as Bokuto did.

Tsukishima suddenly lunged forward, thrusting himself into Bokuto who instinctively lockedhis arms around him as they stumbled backward. He was freezing cold to the touch, his nose like a block of ice, his arms a vice around his waist. Tsukishima burrowed his face into the crook of Bokuto’s neck, trembling like a leaf in his arms, probably from more than just the cold.

“I’m sorry,” He ground out and Bokuto could feel the apology against his skin, not just resounding in his ears, “I didn’t want to push you away. I’ve wanted this just as much as you did I just… I…” Tsukishima gasped loudly and hot tears ran down Bokuto’s back, “I… It was just too much. I’m sorry.”

Bokuto stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of Tsukishima in his arms, hiccuping against his ear. Tsukishima wanted him, wanted to touch him, he just had a demon in his blood that made him uncomfortable from the inside out. It was difficult. Bokuto swallowed down his bile-coated fear and batted away the image of Tsukishima scrabbling backwards on the kitchen floor as he tightened his arms around him.

“It’s okay,”he consoled, patting Tsukishima soothingly, rubbing long, slow strokes down his back as Tsukishima continued to sob.

“It is?” Tsukishima asked between gasps, his voice full of disbelief and hope.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, feeling Tsukishima involuntarily nuzzle as the sound vibrated low in his chest, “I love you.”

Tsukishima leaned back, face tearstained, glasses crooked on his face, but still as beautiful as the day Bokuto had met him on the volleyball court and had his breath stolen away by a single bound into the air.

“I love you too,” Tsukishima said wetly, shaky smile small and vulnerable but oh-so-stunning on his face.

Bokuto grinned back, feeling the tears pool in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up and then we can talk yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima agreed weakly.

Kuroo slipped a hand into Bokuto’s hair and pressed a soft kiss into the side of his mouth. “Good idea.”

Akaashi snaked his arms around both Bokuto and Tsukishima’s waists, connecting all of them and resting his forehead betweenTsukishima’s shoulder blades. “I was so worried,” Akaashi whispered like it was a secret for only the four of them.

Tsukishima’s eyes creased in guilt and Bokuto imagined that he could see the buzz start up under his skin, beginning in his tensing shoulders and traveling like lightning to the ground. Tsukishima opened his mouth to apologize and Bokuto leaned in, capturing those parted lips in a kiss.

There would be time for serious talk later. For now, Bokuto relished the brush of Tsukishima’s rough lips against his, the warm pressure of Kuroo’s hand in his hair, and Akaashi’s fingers digging tight and possessive into his side.


End file.
